


Keeping It Together

by Orange_Julius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dead Castiel (Supernatural), Drinking to Cope, Ficlet, Gen, Grieving Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Jack just wants to help, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Being a Good Brother, Season/Series 13, Songfic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Julius/pseuds/Orange_Julius
Summary: Cas is dead, and Dean isn’t coping well. Sam is just trying to hold them all together.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 32





	Keeping It Together

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for swearing and irresponsible drinking. This is the first fic I’ve ever posted, so thanks for reading!

Sam opens the bunker door and is greeted by the sound of breaking glass and blasting music.

“Dean? Jack!?” He drops the groceries unceremoniously and takes the stairs two at a time. _ Shit.  _ He shouldn’t have left Jack alone with Dean. It was only for an hour at most, but still.

The cacophony leads Sam to the Dean Cave. He doesn’t get past the doorway, halted by the scene in front of him. Shards of glass are scattered across the floor. An amber liquid is dripping down the wall—whiskey, going by the smell. Dean is slumped against the opposite wall, one empty bottle clutched in his hand and another tipped over at his feet.

“Dean, what the  _ fuck. _ ” He can hardly hear his own voice over the somber music emanating from the TV speakers at full volume.

Dean glares at him, his gaze unfocused, eyes bloodshot and exhausted. 

“Whaddyou want?”

Dean’s obviously wasted—a difficult feat for someone with his level of alcohol tolerance. At least Jack is nowhere in sight. Maybe he managed to sleep through the racket.

Sam steps into the room to yank the auxiliary cord out of the speakers. The music switches over to the tinny but considerably less loud speakers of Dean’s phone.

“Jesus christ Dean, it’s 8AM,” Sam says. He must have been up all night, drinking himself into this state. 

Sam catches a few words of the song— _ No more dreaming of the dead, as if death itself was undone, no more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in a garden— _ and sighs. Of course this is about Cas. He scrubs a hand over his face before turning to deal with his brother.

“Alright, it’s time for you to go to bed.” 

He crosses the room to help Dean up from where he’s slid to the floor, looking unkempt in his robe and yesterday’s clothes.

“I can’t sleep. Don’t wanna… don’t wanna wake up. The dreams…” He slurs, cradling his half empty bottle like it’s something precious.

“I know.” Sam crouches down in front of Dean and gently pries the bottle from his grip. “But you have to rest, okay?” 

Dean looks up at him with watery eyes, and grabs at the front of his shirt.

“I never even  _ told _ him, Sammy. Never  _ fffucking _ … I never…” He trails off, sniffling pathetically.

Sam’s chest aches with sympathy and grief, understanding his brother perfectly even in his inebriated state.

“I know. I know Dean,” Sam says softly. He doesn’t have the words to fix this.

He wraps one arm around Dean’s waist and uses the other to drape Dean’s arm around his shoulders, lifting him to his feet with a grunt. 

“Lemme go,” Dean protests weakly. Sam takes a few laborious steps, dragging Dean with him. 

“C’mon, try to walk with me,” He says. Dean puts an unsteady foot forward.

“Good, just like that. Now the other foot.” 

Sam manages to get them into the hallway, where they begin stumbling towards Dean’s room. Dean is practically unconscious after a minute, and Sam is left huffing under the dead weight. 

Jack peeks at them from his doorway as they pass his room. Not asleep, then.

“Sam? Do you need any help?” He asks tentatively.

Sam’s a little glad that Dean’s currently too out of it to snap at the kid.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ah… Well, actually, would you mind putting the groceries away? They’re by the front door. I’ll make you some breakfast as soon as I’m done with this.” He tilts his head towards Dean, who is now drooling on his shoulder.

Jack nods and disappears down the other end of the hall.

“Okay. Almost there,” Sam huffs, before dragging Dean the rest of the way to his room.

He jolts awake when Sam lets him drop onto his bed. 

“Whaazz goin’ on? Sam?” He flails blindly.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, Dean.”

Dean stills after a moment, presumably back to sleep.

Sam pulls the covers over his brother and turns to leave, but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Wait, wait, I’ve gotta tell you…” Dean is staring up at Sam with the kind of somber, mourning expression only a drunk man can make. “Sammy, listen. Never… never fall in love with a dead man.”

It’s a pretty nonsensical statement, all things considered. But the sentiment behind Dean’s words makes Sam think of Jessica with a pang. An ache in his chest, dulled by the passage of time. 

Hopefully time will dull Dean’s pain as well.

“You remember that, Sammy,” Dean slurs, eyelids drooping and hand releasing its grip on Sam’s arm.

“Okay Dean. Okay.”

Sam closes the door softly on his way out. He leans against it, giving himself a moment before he has to go clean up the mess in the Dean Cave. He feels wrung out and drained.

He misses semi-functional Dean. He misses Cas. He really, really misses his mom. Not that she was even around all that much, but… it was just better, when he knew that she was alive and well.

“Sam? I put away the groceries.”

Sam opens his eyes to see Jack standing in front of him, looking concerned and innocent and nothing like his father.

“Right. Thank you Jack. Do you want to learn how to make scrambled eggs?” He manages a weak smile. Jack nods, with a weak smile of his own.

When or- or  _ if  _ Dean gets through this, Sam can let himself be sad. For now, he needs to be the one who holds them all together.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Dean is listening to is Blinding, by Florence + The Machine. I recommend you listen to it if you haven’t before because 1) it’s an absolute bop—in a sad bop kind of way—and 2) it will absolutely pull at your Destiel heartstrings.


End file.
